


Conflict of Interest

by Firalyx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Before Overwatch was disbanded, Dildos, F/F, Forbidden Love, Love/Hate, Moicy, Overwatch/Blackwatch, Squirting, Strap-Ons, They shouldn't be fucking, Vaginal Fingering, before Blackwatch was exposed, but they are, dubcon-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firalyx/pseuds/Firalyx
Summary: Doctor Moira O'Deorain has been newly hired as Lead Researcher for Overwatch's covert team, Blackwatch.Angela hates it.





	Conflict of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> For my girlfriend, my muse. 
> 
> Translations in the end notes.

Angela hates this.

She’s a professional, a respected veteran, doctor, and scientist. She was head of surgery at a prestigious Swiss hospital, pioneered a breakthrough in applied nanobiology that improved recovery time, and is currently the Head of medical research of Overwatch. She’s a smart, strong woman, and loved throughout the medical field. 

So she hates it when she’s herewith _her_. She hates it when the Blackwatch lead scientist needs only to be in the same room with her to make her feel so hot and so... _needy_. She hates when she feels Moira—no,  _Doctor O’Deorain’s_  eyes on her, watching her intently but when Angela turns to catch her gaze, her back is already turned to her. Angela hates that she’s read all of Dr. O’Deorain’s research papers and finds her mind fascinating and  _sexy_ despite the fact that her methods go against all of her morals and standards for respecting all forms of life.

She hates how every time Moi—fuck,  _Dr. O’Deorain_  challenges her and makes a counter-argument, Angela can't help but stare at the doctor’s lips, thinking about what it would be like to kiss her. 

She hates how publicly, she disagrees with Doctor Moira O’Deorain and rejects her research but in reality, she's fascinated by it- and by Moira. Their talks and discussions are always so heated and it makes Angela so wet that she presses her thighs together in the middle of their back-and-forth just to feel the zap of pleasure ripple through her. 

Angela hates that Moira noticed this.

She hates how Moira’s fingers would graze over hers, just to see how she’d react. She hates how Moira would press against Angela as she squeezed behind her in the narrow hallway.

She hates how she finally gave in and responded to her quiet advances by leaning back against Moira one day and that was all it took to start the affair that made Angela hate herself for being such a hypocrite.

But right now, above all things, Angela... hates... how Moira is touching her now, lab coats thrown open, Angela’s pencil skirt hiked up over her hips and around her waist with Moira two fingers deep inside her.

“D...Doctor,” Angela gasps as the desk groans, head slowly tipping back as her eyes flutter closed.

“So formal. You know I love it when you call me by my name,  _Angela_ ,” Moira breathes heavy against her neck before biting down and sucking softly, just long enough to leave a faint red mark that will be gone by tomorrow morning.

Angela knows, but she resists calling her by name and fights all the urges that want her to give in and just accept her. Calling Moira by her professional title reminds her of what she’s doing, shames her, makes her promise this is the last time she’s going to do this because she’s  _done_. 

“I’m well aware of that,  _Doctor_.” Angela’s voice is breathless, air pushed out by Moira’s slick fingers pushing in deep, then pulling out to glide them over her swollen clit. Angela grips Moira’s arm for stability as her hips rock back and forth for more, more,  _more_.

“Well if you’re going to be impertinent—“ Moira takes Angela’s hand and brings it down between her own legs, letting the angel feel the thick bulge. “—then I won’t give you the present I wore here just for you.” 

The piece she’s wearing feels thick and just the right length for Angela to take every single inch. It’s like she knows everything about Angela by just looking at her,  _feeling_  her — god, when did she become so transparent? Or is it just Moira that can read her like a fucking book?

“Good. I don’t want it.”

“Yes, you do.” Moira replies instantly, confidently, mouth curled up in a knowing grin. Her hand releases Angela’s in favor of unbuttoning her pants and unzipping the fly, pulling out the thick purple cock — the same color of the life-stealing biotic fluid she uses in battle.  _Bitch._

“I know you,  _Mercy_. I know what you want; you tell me every time you look at me. Every time you touch my hand to see how I’ll react and every time you press back against me when I’m trying to get past you in the hallway.”

Angela clenches her teeth. “That’s  _you_.”

“Is it now? Are you certain?” The head of the cock presses against Angela’s wet opening, clenching eagerly.

The truth be told, she wasn’t sure. In her mind this was all Moira’s fault; Moira was the one that came into her life and pressed her up against the wall with just a look. It couldn’t have been Angela who caused what was happening now—

But the thought was gone in an instant.

Moira had silenced Angela’s thoughts the moment her cock breeched her, sliding into her in a slow, steady pace, Moira making sure Angela felt every inch of it.

“Look at me, Angela.”

 And she did. Instantly. Her cheeks heated, blown bright red as Moira smirked and caught her chin in her hand when she saw Angela try to look away.

“Can’t help it, can you? You want this but worst of all, you want  _me_.” Moira thrust in the rest of the way. “What was it you said about me to the papers? That I’m a ‘scientist with a god complex, completely lacking in ethics and compassion’?”

Angela bit her lip, but the soft moan still escaped her. Her eyes closed as Moira pulled back and pushed the full length back in quickly and a little harder. “I was unaware you were so concerned about what— _ahh!_ —the papers have to say about you.”

Moira leans in now, maintaining the pace as she releases Angela’s face and instead keeps her pinned with her lips just a breath away from hers. “Keep playing coy, Angela, but you know the truth as well as I do.”

Angela could have fought back. She could have easily pushed the tall, slender woman back and left. She could have reported Moira and exposed her indecent advances.

Instead, as Moira closed the distance between them, Angela leaned forward just enough for their mouths to crush together, Moira dominating the kiss as she fucked Angela on her own desk, in her own office.

The kiss is where it started. Raw, feral feelings were silently shared, heavy panting and soft voices filling the air when they weren’t kissing. Then Angela tried to resist, all of this becoming too real too fast. She attempts to break the kiss only to give in when Moira would catch her face again and force her to look back at her before properly kissing her again.

“Stop,” Angela gasps when she feels Moira start to unbutton her shirt, letting the fat cock rest inside her while she focuses on exposing Angela quickly, yet neatly; she wasn’t a barbarian. Moira hears Angela, but she doesn’t stop until she’s looking at Angela’s white lace bra, breasts perky and perfectly framed.

Moira seems to admire the view for a moment before she tugs a cup down and leans in, taking Angela’s nipple between her teeth. Moira’s hips resume moving, thrusting into her, a hand splayed out on Angela’s back to support her as she leans back.

“Don’t stop,” Angela moans, now pushing her hips up to meet Moira’s body. She shakes in both anger and arousal when she feels the nails from Moira’s weaponized hand rake down her bare thigh, scratching the skin and drawing droplets of blood. The fog of lust clears for but a second when she feels those... _claws_  a sharp reminder of who Moira is, the things she's done, and she's reminded of what she's allowing Moira to do to her.

“Stop,” Angela says with more power in her voice as she reaches down to press the heels of her hands at Moira’s shoulders, pushing her away weakly. Moira stops, but only to look up at Angela, locking eyes as she tugs the other side of her bra down. Angela could feel herself clench around Moira’s cock at her insubordination. “I could bring you down if I wanted to. Expose you for the devil you are.”

“But will you?” Moira licks her newly exposed nipple, gently sucks and releases a heavy chuckle when Angela’s thighs quake around her. Moira looks pleased at that reaction and the sweet snarl Angela gives her makes her next thrust into the researcher a little harder. “You wouldn’t dare. Not  _only_  because of me, but because you’d be exposing Blackwatch too. You can’t risk that. Not when your sole mission is keeping  _peace_. And you’re in the  _perfect position_ to do so, aren’t you?”

“You’re deplorable.” Angela means to growl, knowing she was taking a jab at both her professional and her current, physical position, but it comes out as a gasp because now Moira’s thumb is slipping alongside her clit, making the pressure and the delicious pleasure build faster... faster...

“Oh? Tell me more, Doctor Ziegler. Tell me what you really think of me. Tell me what you think when I’m touching you, kissing you,” Moira’s thumb applies pressure, making Angela’s breath bounce off her grin. “Tell me how this feels.”

Angela’s mouth falls open as Moira rubs her at just the right spot with just enough pressure to keep the pleasure building but not too fast—it was perfect.

“I—”

Angela gasps, twitches hard when Moira’s fingers move directly onto her clit for just a moment, her body reacting separately from Angela’s will.

“I hate it,” she tries again, her hands relaxing and instead of pushing Moira away, she finds her nails digging into her shoulders, clinging to her. “This feels... better than I had imagined and you... know exactly what I want... and I hate it. I hate... what you stand for... your experiments... I hate it... it hurts... it hurts.”

Angela forces the words out between thrusts and heated breaths, hating herself for admitting everything at Moira’s command. She hates feeling this weak and it  _hurts_. It hurts knowing that she wants to resist and it hurts knowing that Moira is so  _perfect_  for her in every way except for her immoral methods. It hurts because she knows she’s in love with Moira and she can’t... she  _won't._

Moira’s nails—the same ones that scratched her—grip Angela’s thigh and slide under her ass to lift her up, changing the angle so that Moira’s cock glides right  _there_... right along that spot. Angela’s head rolls back, a choked sob rushing past her reddened lips as Moira holds the position, grinds into her and doesn’t pull out for what seems like forever before she finally resumes the pace.

“Biology’s habits are hard to break, aren’t they?”

Angela whimpers in response, oddly consoled by her breathless words and it’s only a few moments later when her eyes are looking into Moira’s once more. “Give in to me, Angela. Even if it’s just this one time... let go. Let me see you in your purest form.”

Angela can only regard her words for but a second before Moira finds the spot inside her again. She rocks against it and watches as Angela’s eyes roll up to the back of her head and shut, drowning in the pleasure. She continues to thumb at her thick clit faster, wanting to get her there and when she feels Angela’s body start to tense, she moves her hand away and thrusts forward, rubbing herself against the fabric of the harness, against Angela, as she fills her to the hilt.

Angela cries out, moving up against Moira, her orgasm building until she’s right at the edge. Angela exhales sharply and holds her breath as her fingers find Moira’s hair, grasping at the short, fiery strands.

“Exquisite... Angela...,” Moira moans as she reaches her climax first, grasping onto Angela as she groans heavily against her cheek. Moira grinds, riding out her orgasm while also pulling Angela over the edge and down with her. 

“Moira!” Angela cries out, body tensing then quaking, toes pointing, legs lifting, thighs pressing against Moira’s body as she finally comes and flies through the clouds. Moira pulls out just in time to watch Angela’s hips thrust upwards as she squirts; two, three thick streams until Angela finally settles.

“Oh, look at you... sweet guardian angel.” Moira regards, kissing her once Angela’s eyes crack open, still glazed over with pleasure ripping through her body. Angela returns the kiss, more eagerly than she would dare admit before slumping back onto her desk, resting on her elbows.

Moira came prepared, of course, producing a cloth to clean off the cock and tuck it away back beneath her boxer briefs, under her perfectly pressed white slacks. She attempts to clean Angela until she grips Moira’s wrist to stop her, taking the cloth from her hands.

“I’ll do it.”

Moira pauses, nods, then buttons up her lab coat, fixing her hair and dabbing off sweat from her brow with a tissue before tossing it.

Angela feels exposed like this, laid out for Moira, naked and used — embarrassed. Embarrassed because... she wants it again. She wants to take Moira home with her, make her dinner, drag her to bed, and do it all over again. She hates this. She hates Moira. She hates herself.

“I won’t leave until you are decent.”

Angela can’t decide if she hates that or not, but finds that she appreciates the fact that Moira is willing to wait and even turns her back to her to allow her some privacy. Quietly, she tucks her breasts back into her bra, pulls up her panties, and adjusts her pencil skirt, feeling undone and ashamed the entire time she’s putting herself back together.

Moira stays quiet, standing still and patient, though she doesn't rush Angela in even the slightest. Angela takes a moment to wipe up her mess, face flushed as she remembers them tangled up together just minutes ago. She wishes they could go back to that moment.

“I’m finished.” Angela says, head held high when Moira turns around, eyes meeting once again, holding out the cloth Moira brought.

“You may toss that, if you’d like.” Moira says as she takes a small packet out of her lab coat and opens it, kneels in front of Angela and lifts her skirt up again. This time Angela struggles.

“Doctor O’Deorain, haven’t you had—“

But Moira fights her, over powers her and lifts her skirt only to spread whatever liquid was in the packet over the scratches she’d left on Angela’s thigh. It takes Angela only a second to realize that it’s the same fluid Moira uses to heal—and her assumptions are confirmed when she feels that the scratches are gone, healed and no longer stinging. Moira fixes her skirt and their eyes are locked as she rises. Both women are strong, holding their ground and unmoving and finally Angela feels like she can do this. She doesn’t need Moira. She doesn’t  _want_  her. She thinks she can rise above this — until the silence is shattered.

_Tá pian agam freisin,"_  Moira says quietly in Gaelic, her eyes just as soft as her words and it’s like a gut punch to Angela. She hates that she can’t understand her but worse, she hates that she wants to lean in to Moira and ask her to translate and kiss her until she does. She hates how Moira looks at her as if... she cares.

“Until tomorrow then... Moira.”

Moira smiles then slowly it turns into her signature smirk.

“Of course. Good afternoon, Angela.” Moira backs up, turns, and walks out of her office.

_“Scheiße.”_  Angela curses to herself when the door clicks closed.

 

Angela hates this.

 

 

She can't wait to see Moira again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Tá pian agam freisin." - Gaelic, "I am also in pain." (Thank you, eltigro!)  
> “Scheiße.” - German, "Fuck." 
> 
> I'd like to also apologize to anyone that leaves me comments. I love them so much and I appreciate them even if I don't always respond to them. I'm still attempting to feel more confident about my work and sometimes that hinders my ability to reply.


End file.
